A New Leaf
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: When Arthur's magic goes awry and Matthew is turned into a girl temporarily, things don't quite go as well as they could, thanks to Alfred, and certain issues are confronted. Alfred/Matthew


So, yeah, fem!Matthew is adorable...but not actually as I imagine Matthew genderbent. -dies a little- Thus, this was born. I actually have another one-shot planned (unrelated to this), and that'll probably be up before other stuff. In my defense, I write oneshots to clear my head. And to challenge myself. And to ruin nice things. -slinks away-

Warnings: language, some violence (I guess), magic gone awry, OOCness, fail

Pairings: one-sided Gilbert/Matthew, Alfred/Matthew

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia nor do I deserve to.

* * *

"Arthur, what have I told you about practicing magic?"

"Never to do it near you."

"Yes." Matthew sighed long-sufferingly, burying his face into his hands. "My Boss is not going to be cool with this. He's still furious about the whole rioting thing."

"Well, if you said it was my fault—"

"Oh, I will." The nation of Canada snapped. "Because it is _your_ fault."

"No need to get so touchy—"

"You turned me into a girl!" Matthew shrieked, gesturing wildly at his definitely not male body. "I have breasts and a vagina—"

"Language, lad—lass."

"Vagina, vagina, vagina!" The nation shouted, a tinge of hysteria in his…her voice. "I have to pee sitting down!"

Arthur winced. "I'll go make you a cup of tea."

And with that, the former empire slunk out of the room as his former charge snarled expletives at him in French and English and something that sounded like an old Norse language.

* * *

Once Matthew was placated with a steaming cup of tea and Kumajirou, sensing his master's distress, had taken up residence in the nation's lap, Arthur deemed it safe enough to sit out of tea-throwing distance.

"You're coming with me to buy clothes." Matthew said quietly, voice as unforgiving as the Northern wind. "And then you will find a way to fix things."

Arthur nodded, inwardly grateful that that was all Matthew was requesting.

The boy could hold quite a grudge.

* * *

"Matthew, only harlots wear those." Arthur sniffed disdainfully, glaring imperiously at the colorful display of lacy underthings. "No son—I mean, daughter—of mine will prance about in _that_."

Matthew just looked at him blankly. "I don't want panty lines." Finally he snatched up a cute red and white thong and threw it in the basket. "If I'm going to have to dress up like a woman, then I will dress up like a woman."

Arthur sputtered, an angry flush on his face. "Only one then!"

Matthew proceeded to pick out three more (including one with a Union Jack on it, inwardly cackling when Arthur turned an unhealthy shade of purple).

"Now I need some bras." Matthew's mouth twisted in distaste. He pushed the shopping bag into Arthur's arms before marching over to the fitting rooms and flagging down a pretty woman with measuring tape, wearing the expression of a man prepared to face death.

Arthur figured Matthew's complacent mood would wear off eventually and then he'd probably kill him, so he started to list all the ingredients he would need to reverse the spell.

But not before throwing in a package of sensible, white cotton panties.

* * *

"I have a huge ass." Matthew pouted, digging into the sundae with copious amounts of maple syrup that he demanded Arthur buy him.

Arthur wisely stayed silent.

"I can't find a proper pair of pants." The blond huffed, rolling up her sleeves for the hundredth time that day. "What's worse, is that everyone thinks its because I carry weight down there." Violet eyes turned towards her former guardian. "I'm a hockey goalie, damn it. Of course I'm not going to be skinny. Its muscle." She sniffled. "Have you even seen Sidney Crosby's butt?" She muffled a quiet sob with a spoonful of ice cream. "And my breasts are huge!" The blond wailed into her ice cream. "And I'm just as tall as when I was a boy. I'm huge and ugly and weirdly proportioned!"

People walking around the food court were now staring, pity etched on their faces as they watched Matthew shovel more ice cream into her mouth. Others were glaring at him.

"I think you're beautiful." Arthur said quietly, reaching over and taking his former charge's hand in his. "You've always been beautiful to me, Matthew."

Matthew looked up at him, violet eyes red-rimmed and shimmering with tears under the harsh lighting. Her lips trembled. "R-really, Arthur?"

"Of course, poppet." The sandy-haired man said kindly, tucking a curly strand of hair behind Matthew's ear. "I'll buy you some nice hair things and shoes and whatever else you want until you feel like the princess you are."

(He always did want a daughter.)

Matthew sniffled, wiping at her nose with the sleeve of her too long hoodie. "All these stupid extra hormones are making me an emotional wreck." She laughed bitterly and Arthur, feeling a surge of guilt and hating the way the other nation's eyes filled with tears again, swore to do whatever to put a smile back on Matthew's face.

"Everything will be okay." He promised, green eyes earnest.

Matthew nodded, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand, shoving up her glasses with the action. "Y-yeah." She seemed to be gathering her composure and when she cleared her throat and asked for another sundae in a soft voice, Arthur immediately complied.

* * *

On the way home, they stopped at a salon and as soon as Matthew walked through the doors, every free stylist dashed over and dragged the unsuspecting nation off into the back.

"You need this." One brunette said, eyes serious.

"Woman's intuition." Another said.

"We'll take care of you, sweetie." A matronly woman added.

Arthur was forced to sit in one of the chairs for several hours as Matthew was in the back.

"Blimey." He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and already pulling out his checkbook.

He had been footing the bill for the entire day's purchases, a mere stare from Matthew convincing him without argument. He figured it was a small price to pay in exchange for peace and keeping his limbs attached.

When the ladies finally let Matthew free, Arthur was already out of his chair before he recognized the nation.

Matthew watched his former guardian warily, biting at his lower lip as though he expected Arthur to be upset.

But his guardian only stared at him, jaw slack and eyes disbelieving.

Arthur didn't know what witchcraft those woman did, but Matthew's beauty—which was usually hidden and downplayed—was now on display.

"We didn't really do anything." One of the woman said quietly, circled Matthew. "She has beautiful bone structure and gorgeous eyes. Just take better care of your skin and hair." She added sternly. "And try to at least keep it tidy down there. Nothing is more unattractive than bush peaking out of panties."

Both nations' faces turned cherry red.

* * *

When both nations made it out of the salon and climbed into Matthew's car, Arthur turned to his former charge and said, "I told you."

"I still want to be a boy again." Matthew muttered, staring down at her manicured hands. "But maybe it won't be so bad in the meantime."

Arthur nodded and gradually began to pull the car out.

* * *

Halfway back to Matthew's house, the northern nation blurted out, "What about Alfred?"

Arthur swore and pressed down hard on the breaks, causing both nations to jerk forward.

* * *

"Now or never Matthew." Arthur said impatiently.

"What if they all react like my Boss?" Matthew asked, worried, remembering the way his Boss momentarily stopped breathing.

"Then we throw ice water on them as well." The former empire shrugged. "Now come on." He said sternly, reaching out and grabbing his charge's hand and, unapologetically, tugging the reluctant nation through the doorway.

Immediately all noise in the room ceased as each nation turned to stare at Matthew.

"Dibs!" Gilbert shouted, jumping onto his chair, crimson eyes daring anyone to disagree.

Immediately every male nation (and a few female) disagreed. Loudly.

"You lot are bloody ridiculous!" Arthur bellowed, prominent eyebrows twitching in rage. "No one is laying claim to Matthew!"

"…_Mathieu_?" Francis asked, azure eyes shocked, as the blond glided forward and cupped his former colony's face in his. "You've moisturized. I'm so proud!" He cooed, attempting to draw the nation into a hug.

Arthur quickly put a stop to that. "Keep your perverted hands away, frog." He hissed, grabbing Francis's face and shoving the nation backwards.

"That's Canada?" A nation shouted.

"Dibs!" Gilbert shouted again, prompting another outburst of disagreement.

"I saw this darling Dior dress that would look stunning on you." Francis continued, excitedly, taking Matthew's hands in his. "And these Christian Louboutin heels that will be so perfect." He sighed dreamily. "It was always my dream that you would be a girl."

"W-what?" Matthew choked out.

"I knew you'd be so beautiful~" Francis murmured. "Why do you think I always put you in dresses?"

"What? You told me all little boys wore those." Matthew said accusingly, glaring at Arthur.

The Englishman looked away, a bit guiltily. "Yes, well, you did look quite fetching in all that lace and ribbons."

"Is that also why you never cut my hair?"

"Now, now Matthew. You grew up normal." Arthur defended.

Francis nodded sagely.

"No wonder Steven and Alfred refuse to talk about their childhoods." Matthew snapped, heatedly. "And why Zea is so confused. Its always your fault."

"Now that was just hurtful." Arthur looked away. "Maybe you'd like to be a girl a little long—"

Matthew grabbed Arthur by the collar and pulled him up so the Englishman could look directly into furious violet eyes framed by mascara-enhanced lashes. "Like you would even fucking _dare._" He snarled, shaking the captive nation lightly.

"Hells yeah, that's my kind of woman!" Gilbert whistled appreciatively, earning an enraged glare that could scare away kittens and make babies cry from Francis, Arthur and Matthew.

But before Matthew could finish putting the fear of God into Arthur, he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

"Never fear, the hero is here!" Alfred announced, swaggering through the doorway with a million-dollar grin. "Just stopped to get my Sausage Egg McMuffin on." He held up the slightly greasy bag.

"You did tell Alfred that you're temporarily a woman, right?" Arthur whispered.

"In between menstruating and getting violently drunk after the Habs won, when would I have remembered to call Alfred?"

"Got you one too, brosideon." The superpower added, tossing one of the wrapped sandwiches at Matthew. "B.t.w, lookin' great, stud. Did you get a haircut?" Alfred asked over his shoulder, before slipping into an empty seat and giving Belgium a charming smile ("How you doin'?" the superpower asked, unaffected by the unimpressed look that flashed on the other nation's face, as he unwrapped his breakfast.)

"Idiot." Arthur snorted.

"He gets that from you." Francis commented dryly.

Matthew felt annoyance bubble up in his stomach as he watched his brother carry on without casting him another glance.

Miffed, the male-turned female took a seat next to Willem. "I'm wearing a skirt." He….she huffed, crossing his arms over his…her generous chest.

The Dutch nation let his eyes roam downward, taking in sight of his close friend's periwinkle blouse and then slate colored skirt and sensible pumps. "If only you were a little younger…" He mused.

"Huh?" The purple-eyed nation asked distractedly, too busy ripping open the breakfast sandwich.

"Nothing." The ashen haired nation said quickly.

* * *

"_Mathieu_ seems to be handling this situation quite well." Francis noted, languidly sipping at his wine. "And he looks magnificent in Dior. Just as I thought." He said smugly.

"Wanker." Arthur snorted, green eyes sharp as he watched Matthew chat with Gilbert over by the bar. "He only wants to get into Matthew's knickers."

"He's only wanted that since the Great War." The Frenchman pointed out. "Male or female, Gilbert has never been picky."

"Well, I've found the potion to reverse this fiasco." Arthur said firmly. "Matthew will be pleased."

"Can't we keep him like this a little longer?" Francis pouted, grabbing Arthur's elbow.

"Don't touch me."

"I've always wanted a daughter!" The blond whined, ignoring Arthur's attempts to dislodge him. "And its not as though you'll give me one."

"What about Angelique?" Arthur asked, irritated.

"She has no appreciation for shoes." Francis sniffed disdainfully. "And she prefers the smell of fresh fish to Chanel No. 5."

"Pity." The Englishman said without sympathy, finally shoving Francis away.

"Sorry to interrupt your foreplay," Alfred announced, shoving between the two Europeans. "but could either of you tell me why Matthew is ignoring me? I don't like it."

"I cannot fathom how you could be so dense." Arthur sighed.

"He gets it from you, _cher_."

"Belt up!"

"Guuuuuuyyyyysssss." Alfred whined. "I want Matthew to pay attention to me!"

"Maybe you should pay attention to him first." Francis offered.

"I'm trying." The blond superpower pouted. "He keeps glaring at me and walking away."

"Alfred." Arthur said in his sternest voice, grasping the collar of the other's bomber jacket. "Look at Matthew very carefully."

"Okay." Alfred said uncertainly, blue eyes focused on the nation of Canada.

"Does he look different to you in any way? Perhaps, a little heavier in some areas?"

Alfred stared hard at the scene, squinting slightly. Then with a disappointed sigh, he leaned back and shook his head. "Aw, Iggy, have a heart. You know Mattie is sensitive about his butt." He scolded the older nation.

Arthur just stared at the superpower before exclaiming loudly, "Bloody hell, you dumb arse! Matthew's turned into a girl!"

Alfred turned back at his brother who was coquettishly smiling at Gilbert.

"So that's why he's wearing a dress…" He said slowly, still trying to wrap his mind around this new bit of information. Then his pacific blue eyes widened as the fact hit home.

"WHAT?" The American shrieked, effectively dragging all fun and noise to a screeching halt.

* * *

"And there was so much blood. My entire uniform was soaked because it was just gushing out of his stump." Gilbert said grandiosely, silver hair wild and red eyes bright. "And he just twitched for a bit before I shoved my sword into his head."

"Wow." Matthew said breathily. "I've been in a few terrible battles, but nothing like that."

"Yeah." Gilbert sniffed, thumb brushing his nose, looking incredibly proud as he smirked. "I'm pretty awesome."

"Tell me about another battle!" Matthew said excitedly, jumping up a bit as she clutched Gilbert's arm, pressing closer to the ex-empire.

"How about Mollwitz?" the silver-haired nation said, preening under the attention.

Distantly Matthew heard something that sounded suspiciously like a struggle with Alfred yelling and tables being turned over as Francis and Arthur swore in the background, but the blond ignored it in favor of more gory tales from Gilbert.

"So, I won of course, right? But—"

"Hands off, creep!" Alfred snarled, blue eyes blazing, pulling Matthew away from the ex-nation.

"Al, what the _fuck—_" Matthew scowled, yelping when his brother proceeded to throw him over his shoulder and storm out of the hotel bar. "What the fuck!" She yelled, kicking her feet sharply against his chest, uncaring of the fact that with each motion her dress rode up and her upper thighs peeked out teasingly along with glimpses of her lacy panties.

"Shut up." Alfred snaps, expression stony as he raged through the lobby, ignoring the concerned nations that know better than to stop America mid-tantrum.

Matthew, on the other hand, knew better but didn't give a damn.

"Put me down, damn it!" Now he's struggling even more, tapping into that the strength he hasn't recently needed to use.

But Alfred is still the United States of America, a superpower, and still doesn't know his own strength on a good day and loses most of his control on a bad day.

And it seems to be a bad day because Matthew is subtly crushed, his chest pinned down to Alfred's shoulder by his forearm but fuck it if Matthew is just going to take this shit 'cause he fought at Vimy and Ortona and Passchendaele and Arthur didn't raise a wimp.

So he kicks harder and slips in vulgar Quebecois and ignores that voice that sounds suspiciously like Arthur that tells him that proper ladies do not tell anyone to shove a ***** up their ***** and ***** the ***** and ***************** and ***** and die.

* * *

And Alfred is angry with Matthew and himself and Arthur and even Francis and every single nation that spoke to Matthew that day.

He's angry because he didn't notice Matthew suddenly had tits (and, wow were those some fine specimens) and his voice sounded sweeter and softer and his hands weren't as big and his wrists were delicate. He's angry because Matthew, for once, has put some care into his looks and isn't hidden away in a baggy hockey jersey or somber suit. He's not hiding behind that bear of his nor is he staying out of sight. Matthew is no longer a diamond in the rough, he's just a goddamn diamond and everyone wants him now.

And, secretly, Alfred knows its not because Matthew is suddenly a girl. Its because Matthew is Matthew and Matthew is beautiful regardless and it used to be only him who noticed it and now everyone has and the one day Alfred should've noticed, he dropped the ball.

He reflects over the day. At one point he had wondered just why nations that couldn't find Canada on the map were now suddenly inviting Matthew over for vacation. Now its clear and just pissing him off further.

And Matthew is just soaking up the attention, not even changing his behavior now that he lacked a dick.

And seeing Matthew with Gilbert and knowing that Gilbert has always wanted Matthew (its not like it was a secret) and realizing that he's an idiot, he had snapped and reacted in an incredibly primitive way (not that he regrets it, really).

Because it's only ever been Matthew. Forget Mexico, forget Vietnam, forget Israel, forget special relationships and alliances. Matthew has always been the one to keep him grounded and out of breath and on his toes.

It's always been them. They are the ones who proved to Europe that you can live next to each other and not hate each other. They are the ones who are so irrevocably intertwined that even at the lowest points in their political relationship, they can turn their backs on each other and not expect the cold steel of a blade.

But now Matthew didn't tell him about this whole girl thing and Alfred didn't notice and somehow that goes against the entire unspoken trust thing the two have had going on since forever.

* * *

Alfred dropped his brother unceremoniously to the carpet of his room, turning and locking the door while Matthew gasped and struggled to his feet.

"What the hell, Alfred?" The blond hissed, pulling down the dress from where it had bunched up around her waist.

Alfred said nothing, digging through his suitcase and pulling out a pair of pajamas and an oversized t-shirt before throwing them at Matthew.

"Go wash that crap off your face. You look like a skank." The superpower ordered, gesturing towards the bathroom.

"Fuck you." Matthew sneered, chucking the clothes back at Alfred.

Immediately, Alfred's face darkened. "Don't make me repeat myself." He said lowly, grabbing the fallen clothes and stalking closer to the northern nation. He pushed the clothes at Matthew and roughly shoved the nation in the direction of the bathroom.

"No." Matthew snapped, turning a defiant face towards his brother. "Why should I—"

"Because I can't stand to look at you when you look like that!" Alfred shouted, nuclear heat in his gaze. "Goddamnit, Matt. You're wearing a fucking dress and heels and…just…what the hell? This isn't you!"

And, as his words replayed in his mind and he saw Matthew seemingly withdraw on himself, Alfred felt like the world's biggest asshole. But once the gates were open, he just couldn't stop the words flooding out of his mouth.

"Its just so weird. The last time I saw you, you were in a fucking hockey riot and you were head-butting this guy and now you're…" Alfred just scrutinized Matthew from head to toe and threw up his hands helplessly.

"This isn't even my fault. Arthur—" Matthew began, cheeks dark red.

"Yeah, I know." Alfred interrupted flatly. "But that doesn't mean you can just slut yourself up and throw yourself at the first guy—"

"I'm not—"

"—wearing those stupid clips and reeking of dying flowers—"

"—Alfred, stop it—"

"—its like you like being a chick—"

"—I don't—"

"—you attention whore—"

"Maybe I do like the attention!" Matthew cried out, throwing the clothes to the ground. "M-maybe I like dressing up and people noticing. Before, no one even noticed, not even you, and now they're complimenting me and want to visit!"

Alfred was silent, horrified at how Matthew was slowly breaking down in front of him. Never—in all their years together, even when he torched Matthew's capital and watched his brother fall apart mentally—had Alfred pushed Matthew to tears (usually it was the other way around).

"It's really nice, Arthur remembers my name and treats me like I'm special and Francis isn't trying to change me for once. And Russia held the door open for me and Denmark didn't try to creep in on the Arctic and no one even once today confused me for you!" Matthew spat out. "You think they want me for my body and maybe they do but at least they recognize me! I've been independent for years but they still think I'm a part of you. I fought…I fought so hard and I didn't even have to because those weren't my wars…and I sacrificed so many of my people and no one even realizes it because you're always overshadowing me with your big stupid policeman mentality and mistakes and foolhardiness."

"Mattie…" Alfred stepped forward, guilt-stricken, as his brother slipped down to the floor, dress sliding up to reveal pale, muscular thighs as Matthew sat, knees on either side, golden curls falling into his face.

"And I was so mad at Arthur because I don't even have a girly body and its not pretty, I'm a goddamn Amazon and so awkward but no one seemed to notice and it was okay but it was all just so stupid I guess." He laughed self-deprecatingly, tearing out the pretty pins in his hair and rubbing at his smoky eyes. "I'm going to be a boy again soon so I'll go back to being invisible and ignored and then you'll be happy, won't you Alfred?" He picked at the dark blue ruffle on the dress. "I just wanted to have a little fun…" He threw down the little clips and glared at Alfred, eyeliner smudged around teary eyes, looking like a bruised blossom.

Alfred didn't say anything, silently answering the door when sharp knocks resounded. He didn't stop Arthur from storming in and gathering Matthew up, his own jacket wrapped around the other's pale shoulders, jade eyes furious and promising retribution as he lead the nation out of the room.

* * *

"You are the absolute worst." Arthur snapped, slamming his hand down on the table in front of Alfred the next day. "I hope you're happy, wanker."

Alfred looked up at his former guardian, blue eyes exhausted and shadowed, and face repentant. "I didn't mean it—"

"Alfred, you use that excuse too often. And this isn't the first time you've gone too far." Arthur scowled, knitting his eyebrows together. "You've done plenty of stupid things—invading without proper intelligence, that stupid pissing contest with Russia, that torrid love affair with that clown—but this is at least top five." Arthur sighed, frustrated and crossed his arms. "Maybe if I had beaten you more as a child…" He mused, scratching his sandy-haired head thoughtfully.

"I'll fix this." Alfred promised, voice childlike. "I really, really didn't mean it."

"Fix things or I will curse you into next millennium." Arthur said with a severe scowl, before marching away.

* * *

It was almost a week later before Alfred gathered up the courage to face his brother. After several calls to Matthew's provinces and multiple death threats and crude comments on his ancestry (mostly from Ontario and Quebec but even British Columbia was harsher than normal), Saskatchewan took pity on him and told him Matthew was camping out in his cabin up near Inuvik.

And so Alfred went, packing a bag of the warmest things he owned, driving up North in his SUV, alternating between Bruce Springsteen and Lady Gaga. But once he hit Yellowknife, all he could listen to was Justin Bieber and Nickelback, tears streaming down his face as he openly sobbed ("Matthew! I'm sorry!" He had wailed, drivers overtaking him staring at him with concern and suspicion.).

Once he found Matthew's cabin (dressed to the nines in multiple layers and heavy-duty boots), he pounded on the door and nearly cried in relief when Matthew opened the door. Then, taking in the blond's fleece and ski pants, he made a very astute observation.

"You got your balls back!" Alfred marveled, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to win Matthew's forgiveness not his silent hatred and only remembering after Matthew slammed the heavy door in his face.

The superpower began to knock loudly again. "I'm sorry! That was stupid of me!"

"Go away!" Matthew shouted.

"Not until you love me again!"

"I didn't love you to begin with!"

Okay, _ouch._

"Please Mattie!" Alfred wheedled. "I could break down this door—you know I can—but I won't! Just let me in!"

Suddenly the door was wrenched open and Matthew glared at him from under long lashes. "I like this door." Was all he said, as he sidestepped to let Alfred waddle in. "And it's not that cold." The younger nation said, rolling his eyes as he shut the door.

He faced Alfred, arms crossed over his now flat chest. "I can and will kill you and throw you into the snow and no one will find your body for weeks."

"Yeah, I'd deserve that." Alfred said sheepishly, tousling his dark blond hair hesitantly. "Look, bro, I'm sorry. I…I shouldn't have said those things and I can't stop thinking about that night and…I'm just really sorry."

"…okay." Matthew regarded him boredly, lips set into a stern line.

"What else do you want me to say?" Alfred exclaimed. "God, Matt! Just tell me what you want! I'll crawl across broken glass even!"

The superpower blanched when Matthew's expression turned thoughtful.

"I acted stupidly and I wasn't thinking—" Here Matthew snorted derisively. "—I was jealous okay."

"Jealous?" The other nation looked incredulous. "You could bring Armageddon to the world at least a dozen times and you're jealous of me? You really aren't happy with what you have."

"Not that!" The older nation said hurriedly. "Its just…" He trailed off, blue eyes a little hopeless. "This isn't turning out the way I planned."

"When does it ever?" Matthew muttered, turning on his heel to stoke the fire burning merrily in the fireplace.

"I didn't mean what I said that night." Alfred said quietly, reaching into the inner pocket of his heavy coat and bringing out a bundle of tissue paper. "I was just upset—"

"No, upset is how you were when that ref said you were offside. You looked like you were ready to declare war." Matthew said softly, fiddling with a lose string on his fleece. "You looked like you hated me. You've never looked at me like that before. Like, you were disgusted and wanted me to just disappear."

"I would never want that." Alfred said, a little desperate. "You don't get it, do you Mattie?" He stepped forward, hating the way Matthew seemed to visibly consider shrinking away.

"Was I so repulsive to you?"

"I was just upset that I had to share you." Alfred admitted quietly, moving up to Matthew and unwrapping the tissues he had in hand. "I took you for granted, thinking you'd always be there with me and I didn't notice that you deserved better. And seeing you, that night with Prussia—he wants your ass, you know right?—and I just lost it."

Matthew remained quiet, watching cautiously as Alfred showed him what was in the tissue. The little maple leaf clips that Arthur had surprised him with the first day of his forced womanhood and that he had pulled out of his hair that night with Alfred lay, glinting in the firelight.

"You looked like a goddess." Alfred admitted, blue eyes unfocused as though remembering the night. "Even know, I think you're out of this world." He smiled bashfully, taking advantage of Matthew's stunned silence to place the pins into his hair—albeit a little messily, but a sweet gesture regardless. "You said, that night, that no one notices, but I do. I always notice. You just don't see it."

Matthew stared at him thoughtfully, face unhindered by messy bangs thanks to the little pins. "You didn't even realize I turned into a girl, Al."

"Fine, one day I didn't notice, but I promise, from now on, you won't even be able to sneeze without me already wiping your nose." Alfred smiled charmingly, holding up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

The other blond appraised him, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly before he smiled. "I'll hold you to that, Al."

* * *

Okay, a few notes. Steven is Australia, Zea is New Zealand, and Willem is Netherlands. I purposely switched between he and she and his and her for Matthew. Why? 'Cuz its actually more confusing to keep track than I thought. Also, yes, I did lure you in with humor and then smacked you with drama/angst.

Because Alfred does not know how to deal with women. -shakes head-

I really hope I didn't offend anyone with this. That wasn't my intention.

Like it? Hate it? Confused?


End file.
